


Savior Complex

by HallaMothers



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallaMothers/pseuds/HallaMothers
Summary: “Hawke I have forgott—you’re not Hawke.” It seemed like he was almost welcoming himself in before he froze, registered she was in fact not Hawke at all and backed up just a touch. “Sorry, is Hawke in? I have forgotten something here, but if the people of the house are sleeping I can come back.” It was obvious there was a spike in anxiety in the not so unwelcome guest—at least he was one of Hawkes people and not an assassin.
Relationships: Anders/Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 4





	1. Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rejoyce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rejoyce/gifts).



> This is mostly about 2 people trying to figure out how to heal in a world they don't feel they belong to anymore. Inquisitor is dealing with solas and anders is dealing with his own feelings on everything that happened. It's at least half dedicated to a friend. It's intended to be long but lets see! I just really like the idea of the inquisitor retiring to Kirkwall to try and ignore it for as long as she can and of course you like one Mage revolutionary you have to like them all I guess!
> 
> Feel free to ask about world state if you need too!
> 
> Post trespassers and sort of post Tevinter nights!

It was already half past midnight, and Sorin was nodding off in the small library in what was formerly Hawke’s home. The champion of Kirkwall didn’t seem too sad to part with it when Varric had offered it to the Inquisitor, something about living there despite everything was stifling and Sorin having no previous connections to Kirkwall was fine taking it. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she walked to the door. ‘ _ Probably Charter’ _ she thought, feeling knots in her stomach at the idea of discussing the  _ Dreadwolf  _ for a moment more—she wasn’t ready to unpack what happened yet and hearing about potential movements wasn’t helping. A deep sigh, before swinging open the door only to be greeted by  _ not  _ Charter, but instead a blonde man she had never seen before…...probably; at some point they all started to look the same.

“Hawke I have forgott—you’re not Hawke.” It seemed like he was almost welcoming himself in before he froze, registered she was in fact not Hawke at all and backed up just a touch. “Sorry, is Hawke in? I have forgotten something here, but if the people of the house are sleeping I can come back.” It was obvious there was a spike in anxiety in the not so unwelcome guest—at least he was one of Hawkes people and not an assassin.

“You’re not Charter.” She refuted, laughing just a little. “And I am not Hawke, sorry but she doesn’t live here anymore I do now—Varric gave me the home with her permissions, but if you’re a friend I can let you in to find what you need; as long as you promise you aren’t some sort of...murderer or something.” Sorin stepped aside, pointing the way in with what appeared to be an arm missing a hand. “If you are a Murderer, I have a friend visiting tomorrow so make sure you hide the body first.” It was a joke, obviously she would fight back but it was nice to consider some nights.

Anders hesitated for a long while on the doorstep, he wasn’t sure how much he could trust this stranger—it’s not as if he were a welcome face in Kirkwall, and how much did this stranger know anyway if she knew Hawke. He weighed the pros and cons as she waited patiently and silently before deciding to take the plunge and step inside; if he had to he could fight back. The Elven woman didn’t seem to be a mage of any kind, nor templar leaning so he should be safe. “Probably not a murderer.” He met her joke walking past her. “There was a loose floorboard with a sack in it under the writing desk.” The mage wanted her to know where he was going before he walked there so as to not cause suspicions, he didn’t want to have to attack someone in their own home.

Ah! So that’s who this is. “Blondie.” She cleared her throat. “Rather...Anders? That sack isn’t there anymore! One thing I’ve learned is check everywhere, so you won’t find it there.” She watched his face fall. “But not to worry, I’d never tossed it out; though—sorry I did glance at a few of the letters to see whom they might belong too. I apologize, I wasn’t deliberately snooping. It’s this way.” Instead of leading him to where he thought it would be, she led him to the left towards the library. “I haven’t thrown anything away however.” Her arms were swinging as if she were taking a daytime jaunt through hightown.

Anders followed her several steps behind, a little concerned that she knew his unfortunate nickname from Varric. “No no, it’s alright I can’t say I wouldn’t have snooped, already you are stronger than I.” A pause. “But if you know who I am now, I would expect you to have kicked me from your home. I’m not exactly The ruler of Popularity here.” Testing the waters, he felt uncomfortable in his skin—but Justice wasn’t alerting him to any sort of danger so perhaps...it was okay. For a moment Anders watched the Woman struggle to pull an ornately carved box down, before reaching out to get it for her.

“Hm? Oh that?” Sorin shrugged, taking the box before handing it right back to him. “You can have the box, there’s only your things in there and I’ve made so many of these boxes I’m rather sick to death of looking at them.” She had a very soft and pleasant laugh, as she waved her arm at him. “Truthfully, I’m glad you’re not Charter. She brings news I don’t want to hear—so this is a nice change.” The inquisitor was speaking to him as politely as if it were an everyday conversation, and if he were as menacing as the stories made him seem—well at least he wouldn’t be delivering bad news as she died; though she suspected like most stories the nature of his being was a little stretched to fantasy.

“Oh, well...thank you, I think.” Cautious optimism, she hadn’t turned him away and she seemed so….pleasant. “Then I am glad to be the bearer of un-bad news.” His spirits were a little higher—being welcomed into a home without being chastised, and his  _ spirit  _ was a little higher too. “This is a lovely box, you carved it?” His head tilted as he examined it. A decade in Merrill’s company would lead him to believe that “It’s Dalish, isn’t it? Did you learn from one of the local clans, I’m surprised they would let you I know they can be reclusive towards people from the city.” Anders was about to add more but the slight frown before she perked back up led him to believe he should stop talking now. “Either way it’s nice.” Awkward, the first person to be kind to him and he had to shove his foot right up his own ass.

A shrug. “Something like that yeah.” Her words were distant but at least the  _ lovely  _ smile was back. Anders wasn’t sure he was liking where this train of thought was leading, better to shove it down with all the other thoughts he’d rather ignore. “But like I said, you can have it!” Luckily she pulled him back into his present mind. “I’m not sure I told you my name; I’m Sorin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anders.”  _ A pleasure, she must be joking. _ Again, he shook the thoughts that were creeping in away.

“Wait, Sorin…” He racked his brain. “  _ Sorin.”  _ It clicked, a letter from Hawke. “Inquisitor Lavellan?” That would explain why she didn’t hate him—he knows what she did for mages at Redcliffe, but…” I thought the Inquisitor was Dalish.” Anders watched her face fall again, and his shoulders rise just a touch—her body language giving her away, but still he pressed; he was never one for social graces. “He pointed to his own face, don’t the Dalish--”

Sorin cut him off, she couldn’t bear to talk about it. Nor did she blame him for asking; she had just hoped maybe he wouldn’t connect the dots so fast, but if wishes were horses or coins or whatever the phrase was. “I am, but I don’t know you well enough to get into it; I apologize.” Lavellan wasn’t so keen on making eye contact with him, instead she turned her attention to the book shelves pretending as if she wanted to rearrange the titles though really all she wanted was a distraction.

“Ah, I apologize.” No he supposed he wouldn’t exactly want to talk about Justice first chance. “I’m known for making an ass out of myself, as I’m sure you’ve probably heard from Varric at least.” Anders cradled to box to his chest; she was a lot less imposing than whispered stories. A hero of the mages and killer of Corypheus—something he had a hand in releasing. Here she just seemed  _ normal,  _ as if she could disappear into a crowd and no one would notice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Pleasantries were hard for Anders, he was too passionate and loud about his opinions to normal be so subdued—but here and now he had the urge to calm for even a moment. He’d heard stories about everything she had done, the inquisitor must be tired and she seemed to be a good person who cared about mages so why should he be so loud to her.

“No need to apologize, you didn’t know. I can’t expect you to be a mind reader like Cole was.” Mind reading wasn’t the correct term but it was a term good enough. “I’m sure you meant no offense Anders.” Sorin nodded slightly, before finally turning towards her late night guest. “Oh right, perhaps check to make sure I didn’t miss anything just in case. Wouldn’t want you to have to come back.” A pause. “Not that you’re unwelcome, before you might get the wrong impression.” Why she was inviting a human and a known troublemaker back, she wasn’t sure—but there was something familiar about his goals, and ideals; something that hearkened back to something  _ happier.  _ Something that spoke of late night lectures on things she didn’t quite understand, but it sounded so nice to hear if only for the company it brought her. Quickly she slammed the door on the parade of thoughts, and pain that were trying to march in.  _ It’s the past Sorin.  _ It was hard to let it go, but it was nice to have a visitor that didn’t drag it back to the surface.

“Oh? Is that an invitation to come back then?” A teasing familiar tone as he searched through the contents of the box. He hadn’t even paid mind to the tone he used, but he knew he didn’t hate the idea of an open invitation; maybe after all this time he could rebuild some semblance of a friendship—he had many regrets about how he hadn’t treated Hawke as the confidant she tried to be for him, how he hadn’t asked for help from her. Even more, he almost felt guilty for how she had let him off; he had been fully prepared to die by his closest friend’s hand, and he would deserve no less—but he was allowed to live and now he was allowed to stand here in the presence of a woman who made real change. Fate was cruel and kind. “Perhaps you shouldn’t invite strangers over, hadn’t you heard the phrase Stranger Danger?” It was a jest...it was a warning; which was more, he hadn’t a clue just as long as he could keep speaking. “Yes, it seems you collected it all; sad really I’ll now have to find a different excuse, perhaps mice? I play a friendly midnight exterminator?”  _ Too familiar, what are you doing?  _ Anders cleared his throat.

“I learned that Stranger Danger isn’t always people you don’t know, so really it means nothing now!” She joked back, a pleasant flow. “Well, as long as you promise you aren’t an ancient God in disguise, I can turn a blind eye to stranger danger.” Sorin smiled as she led him back to the front door.

Anders figured that was something he shouldn’t ask about that ancient god comment; better not to push the one person who treated him with kindness and to be alone again; sure he had Hawke, but their relationship hadn’t been the same since. “Well, if that’s a promise, I may be by again soon.” The mage nodded to her as he stalked out into the night again. “Perhaps sooner than soon.” Pulling the hood back over his head, he turned back to her lifting the box. “Thank you again for my things and this box.”

Sorin gave him a nod and a smile back. “Of course, and yes it’s a promise, I look forward to our next meeting…” A glance around and her voice lowering; it was clear he didn’t want to be noticed “ _ Anders.”  _ A wave of the stump and she closed the door, ready to go back to where she had been in the Library reading Hard in High Town. She had promised Varric to give him a full reaction now that she had the time to lounge and read.

Anders watched the door close, thoughts rumbling through his mind. There was much to think about now. The evening hadn’t gone as expected—he intended to use this excuse to finally talk to Hawke about what had happened under less strained conditions. Instead he met someone new, someone who didn’t give him suspicious glances or sling hatefulness at him—she seemed rather pleasant. Yes there was much to consider and another visit to plan; he was absolutely going to take her up on her offer. He wanted to get to know the woman who helped people she was not a part of, and even more he wanted to get to know a woman who seemed to radiate kindness and patience. It was….refreshing.

Tucking the box away, he turned to walk into the night; already knowing he would be back in a week.


	2. Expected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, you know how it goes. A cup of tea a day keeps the dreadwolf away.” Sorin was absent as she spoke; as if it was a tiring task she had been fighting at for a thousand years—the fact that she had a guest temporarily slipped her mind as she stared into her own cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorin is a very soft person, but being in charge of so much left her with feeling unsure of her own emotions and a lot more volatile than previous.

“Is that a Nug on your shoulder?” Anders was amused when the Inquisitor answered the door with a surprise friend with her. “I didn’t even notice last time, shows you how observant I am.” He was laughing, waiting to be let in, if she were to allow it. Just like he had said, he was back for a visit; sooner than a week like he had originally planned. The mage had struggled to get the thoughts of their first meeting out of his mind, and curiosity won out in the end. This time he came much earlier than midnight; thought still under the cover of the night.

“Yes, this is Lord Squeakums. Lord of this house.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a square of cheese which she held up to the Nug who promptly ate it. The creature squeaked happily and Sorin stepped aside to let Anders in  _ almost  _ as if she had been asking  _ the lord of the house  _ for permission. Even more amusing. Strange even.

“Lord Squeakums, well I hope there weren’t any bloody Coups to lend him that title.” He entered the foyer, pulling his hood down. Standing awkwardly, he watched the Dalish woman feed another square of cheese to the Nug.  _ Ah, so a spoiled one.  _ Another laugh. 

“Oh yes, the bloodiest of Coups, but what must be done must be done.” The inquisitor turned her attention to her guest, a wide smile lining her lips. “I had hoped you would come back, I felt maybe last time got a little awkward which makes sense, strangers dancing around first meeting and what not.” Sorin put the creature down and watched it scamper off to sleep by the fireplace. “Hopefully it’s not because you’ve forgotten something again.”

“Hm? Oh no, I’m just here for a visit, if that isn’t troublesome for you.” Maybe he misread her invitation? Probably, she might have just been being polite and he rushed to accept. How stupid of him. “I can leave if you’re too busy for company?” Anders was already preparing to turn towards the door; it had been too much for him to assume he was actually welcome. He stopped when he heard the soft…. _ sweet  _ voice.

“Hm? No I’m not busy, I’m actually glad you came by. I was about to have some tea if you would like to join me.” The inquisitor led him towards the hearth area, fire reflecting in her dark hair casting a red glow on her dark brown skin. Chairs that hadn’t been there during Hawke’s time in the home now sat where the Mabari used to lie. A pile of blankets for Lord Squeakums near one of the chairs. Anders decided on the other one, accepting a cup from his new found...acquaintance.

“Tea? At this hour? Won’t you be up all night?” Sorin just smiled at his question and shrugged; it was a pleasant smile but he wasn’t going to entertain that; perhaps all the years with justice had tired his mind out and he had become a lot worse at blocking unwanted things out.

“Well, you know how it goes. A cup of tea a day keeps the dreadwolf away.” Sorin was absent as she spoke; as if it was a tiring task she had been fighting at for a thousand years—the fact that she had a guest temporarily slipped her mind as she stared into her own cup. Even now, he was causing her problems—the way he visited her in her dreams so far away kept her hung on and she didn’t have it in her to fight it some days so she opted for reading through the night instead. Sorin was quickly pulled out of her thoughts however.

“I haven’t heard that one, maybe it’s because I’ve only hung out with a few Dalish. Usually it’s ‘By the dreadwolf’.” Anders spoke with a certain exasperation that led Sorin to believe he was attempting an impersonation, which elicited a laugh from the inquisitor. Something he seemed a little too pleased about.

“That is the normal phrase, mine is a more personal phrase.” She took a sip of her tea before speaking again. “It’s a long story and a rather unbelievable one at that.” Sorin shrugged every so slightly, even she still didn’t believe it—after all this time it seemed so unlikely but she had the proof. The hidden stories in that Library, the guardians, seeing him. Her head shook, and she smiled at her guest. “Varric would probably tell it better anyway, I’m not necessarily a phenomenal story teller.” Sorin took another sip.

“Oh come now, I’m sure you’re a fine story teller. Between you and me, I always thought Varric’s stories were bloated and overblown.” It was strange, she spoke as if she had some personal experience with this god figure from the myths, but that wouldn’t make sense. Probably it was metaphorical luck in life type deal. “I mean I can only imagine what was told about me.” Anders followed suit, taking a drink of his tea.

“Blonde, brooding and mage with something to prove. Tortured.” She was ticking off a list on her one hand. “I’d say not inaccurate, no offense.” Her hand stayed up as if she were still mid list. “He left out charming.” She put her hand down. “He also left out polite, actually I got the impression he’d rather not talk about you. I always wondered why. No need to leave pieces out if I were to hear the adventures of Hawke anyway.” Sorin watched him carefully, just to see what he would do at that revelation. Would he be hurt? She hoped not.

“I mean, I can understand...I did blow up a chantry after all, without letting my friends in.” Anders was prickling, wildly uncomfortable. “But if it meant mages would be saved, then sacrificing friendships was a price I was willing to pay, and I  _ don’t  _ regret my decision. It was necessary.” The mage was going into defensive overdrive, he was  **not** going to be judged on his necessary act, not even by the inquisitor. “I mean what would you do if your people were being hunted by templars.” He found himself standing, and for what? It’s not like he had plans to attack the inquisitor or anything he just felt... _ angry. _

Sorin also stood, arms up in attempts to diffuse the situation she caused. “I don’t think you were wrong.” She was speaking softly, not wanting to push her guest further. “I mean, if you think about it technically I had a  _ hand  _ in the death of the Divine.” Okay maybe now wasn’t the time for bad jokes. “I think you did the best you could with what you had. Isn’t that how we’re all set up?” The inquisitor was giving him space, why also trying to be a comforting presence. “If it helps the last person I opted to spend time with in any capacity was a mage with something to prove, so really this is normal for me.” She wasn’t going to get into it further. “I am Dalish, we have been hunted by people. I understand. It’s why I opted to help the mages in the first place. You are right.”

Anders deflated, she was right...this was all unnecessary. Decades of being under extreme tension, and he hadn’t moved past it yet; not that justice would let him. “I...yes, you’ve done much for mages...I’m acting like a child, I sincerely apologize.” He was embarrassed, she had been so kind and welcoming to him already. Anders wanted to leave and never come back; it was unfair to act this way towards the only person with power who had sided with his cause, whether or not she knew. “I should leave.”

Wounded; that hurt—the last time she heard that, it changed her permanently. “Please don’t leave. I’m not upset.” Desperately, the inquisitor didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts again, not now. “I don’t want you to feel unwelcome here. In truth, you don’t bring up Solas, and quite frankly it's refreshing. I’m sick to death of news.” Now it was her turn to seem agitated, all of her dealings as the inquisitor had made her a little more emotionally volatile than she wanted, another thing she missed about the previous days--but there wasn’t much to be done now. This was her new normal. “Why do I have to talk about it anytime anyone visits me?” Immediately, she sat down and drank the rest of her cup. That was too much, normally she was rather mild mannered but sometimes she would slip into an angered despair over all of it—only for a moment. The nug had wandered up to her to comfort her like he often did which calmed her just a touch. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I won’t make you stay.” Already, she was feeding Lord Squeakums squares of cheese.

It was curious; he hadn’t expected an outburst unrelated to but in response of his own outburst. In truth, the mage felt bad. “Well, I’m not sure who this Solas fellow is, so I suppose I can’t bring it up.” He was trying to lighten the mood, whether or not it would work would remain to be seen. “I’ll stay, you did call me charming, I suppose you’re stuck with me now. Also I won’t ask.” Anders sat back down, watching her for a long moment before clearing his throat. “Thank you for being so gracious. Sometimes I lose control of Justice and..”  _ And What?  _ Nothing, there was no excuse. The mage allowed himself to fall into an  _ almost  _ comfortable silence.

The time stretched on for a long time before either of them dared speak again. It was the inquisitor who broke the silence. “You know, you become entangled with someone who is bent on changing the world through any means necessary once and suddenly that’s all anyone talks about.” She was laughing, a soft airy laugh. “I suppose I know about your situation, though I’m not sure Varric had permission to tell me.” Her hand ran down her face before she sat up straight. “I met the Dread Wolf the Dalish go on about. I learned things I didn’t particularly want to know, and I cared for him deeply…”

Sorin delved into all of the Adventures she had with Solas and the other members of the inquisition; along with the climax of  _ their  _ story. It was a long tale, and the fireplace dimmed a little during the story; something which she had paused to take care of before delving into it further. The longer she spoke, the more pained she looked. Finally, she got to the end and fell silent.

“So this Solas fellow was the Dread wolf?” Anders turned over the information in his head. It was a lot to digest, but he almost ached for the inquisitor; that mustn’t have been easy to deal with. He knew the effect his actions had on his... _ friends, _ he couldn’t imagine if he was entangled with someone on top of it only to turn his back on them. What a lofty goal too. “You know this sounds extremely improbable right?” He didn’t disbelieve her of course, but what could someone say? ‘ _ Sorry your boyfriend turned out to be the unliked god in your culture, here’s flowers.’  _ Weak.

Her lips curved up in a grin. “Says the man with a spirit controlling his meat prison.” A small laugh from the both of them. “I suppose I barely believe it, or I would if I hadn’t seen the proof from long abandoned times.” Sorin’s foot was lightly tapping, a nervous habit she picked up after everything that had happened. “I think my favorite part about it all, is the signs were all there but I never even noticed. I mean who would guess that? I had assumed Cole was the strangest—but make no mistake I do love Cole.” Both her feet were tapping now. “Hopefully you aren’t an Elven god in disguise.” Of course he wasn’t, that couldn’t happen twice.

“Would I be more, or less charming if I were?” Anders was trying to lighten the mood. “If it makes me more charming I am, if not I am not.” There was nothing he wanted more than for her to not feel so bad; which he again wasn’t going to address mentally. “Well, as long as I am welcome here I promise to never bring this man up.” He meant it.

“Hmmm.” She regarded him carefully as if she were deep in thought. “I suppose it would depend on which one you were. For now I will say less charming, freedom fighter god has already been taken. So that would make you one of the  _ allegedly  _ bad ones.” A genuine smile. At least he was humorous. “I suppose, even if you were one of the bad ones you can stay for now, but Lord Squeakums will be keeping an eye on you.” The creature squeaked at his name, ears twitching.

“Sounds fair enough, better than a Templar watching me any day.” Anders regarded Lord Squeakums, who was now snoozing on the woman’s feet. “Well, if I am, I have no idea if that counts for anything. Just me and Justice as far as I know.” he said before falling into silence again. There was much to think about. It was hard to believe the woman he was speaking to and the inquisitor were the same person; he had always heard larger than life stories—but it seemed she was just the same. That wasn’t a bad thing. The solution has always been individuals and not some disembodied idea. Though ideals were good.

The mage was lost in his thoughts for a long while before he finally came back to the current time. He had opened his mouth to speak, turning towards Sorin only to find she had dozed off in her chair, a great surprise to him. ‘ _ It must be really late.’  _ Though, if he were inquisitor it’d be too on edge with the idea of assassins or worse to doze in company.

Anders watched her for a moment, before getting up and going to where Hawke’s room was previously; hoping it was still a bedroom. To his pleasure, it was. That made it easier—sure he was familiar with this place but that doesn’t mean he was as welcome as he once was. Still, he pulled the blanket of the bed and brought it back to the sitting room draping it carefully over the sleeping woman. A slight smile when he realized the Nug was watching him. He took a square of cheese off the table, feeding it to  _ the lord of the house  _ before making his way to the door. Perhaps he would come back again in less than a week—or more likely he definitely would.

Closing the door behind him, he used what magic he could to lock the door making sure it would only dissipate if Sorin touched it so she could be safe while she dozed. Despite all the things he had told himself and heard from others he wasn’t the monster they thought he was; and he was finding he still had it in him to care about others even if they weren’t necessarily in his wheelhouse of causes. A refreshing thought as he disappeared into the cover of early morning, just before dawn.


	3. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So that’s the Charter you were expecting that first day; I hadn’t imagined a ginger elf.”He hadn’t imagined anything at all really, it was out of mind quickly after their meeting. It reminded him, however. “Oh I’ve brought you something.” Anders said, holding out a small box which she quickly took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot more Anders internal stuff than Sorin. enjoy! Also, I named this fic Savior complex because I was listening to Phoebe Bridgers

It had been maybe a few months and they had fallen into the rhythm of every few nights Anders would visit and they would talk about everything and nothing until Sorin fell asleep and he let himself out. It was comfortable, both the routine and the fact that someone saw him as  _ safe  _ enough to fall asleep by. It was strange, never in his life had he thought he would fall into a comforting pattern—it was almost a dream, having a friend and a confidante again? It was almost obscene, he didn’t deserve it; but oh how he liked it anyway—and again he could ignore his better judgment, something he would deal with later. This time he brought a gift; a wheel of cheese for the Lord of the house, and a box of fine tea leaves for the lady of the house, though if she asked here he got the coin to afford it well—it wouldn’t be the first time he lied.

The mage let himself in, something that his dearest friend told him was allowed. Immediately he was greeted by the nug who he’d grown fond of over the months. “Yes of course I got you something.” He handed down the small cheese wheel, to a squeak of approval. “You are a spoiled one aren’t you? I suppose it can’t be helped, must appease the lord.” A light tap on the creature's head, and he turned to full enter the sitting room when he heard voices. Torn between leaving and eavesdropping, the latter won out. He stood by the door and strained his ears.

“He says to tell you he’s sorry.” A woman’s voice he didn’t recognize. “It seemed he was sincere too, if that’s any consolation.” There was a long silence, one Anders knew meant the inquisitor wasn’t comfortable—he wanted to interrupt and was about to when he heard her sing song voice speak up.

“Is that so? I suppose he would be.” He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “How is he? Did he look...healthy? Happy?” A strain, Anders shifted uncomfortably—he didn’t like how she was sounding. Again and wanted to comfort her, he knew this was a sour point for her—and he knew she dreaded any news of this Solas guy; something she had confided in him during one of his visits. He had clear recollection of the conversation. ‘ _ I still love him, and that’s why I don’t want to know because I’m scared to hate him.’  _ That caused a tightness in his chest—one he assumed came from a place of empathy. Even now it seemed she wanted to preserve what feelings there had been,

“He was wearing a mask, but I don’t suppose he was.” The woman cleared her throat. “But it seems you may have an unannounced guest; should I take care of it?” That was his cue to enter the radius of their vision, hands up to show he wasn’t a threat.

“Wait wait, I’m expected.” The elven woman accompanying the inquisitor had a look of doubt on her face; she looked ready to go for the kill. “I’m Sorin’s guest.” pleading for his life like he hadn’t done after the situation with the Chantry; there was no martyrdom to be had here. At signal and word from his friend, the woman relaxed and gave a curt bow to the Inquisitor. “Then I shall let you to your guest, good day to you.”

Sorin waved with her arm at the guest. “I will see you at a later time Charter.” The Dalish woman turned her attention full to Anders with a strained smile as Charter left. “How long did you eavesdrop for?” It wasn’t accusatory--as if she didn’t care at all. “I’m not mad, just curious.” Sorin sat down in  _ her  _ chair, and gestured to what had become  _ his  _ chair over the months.

“Not very long, I just got here—just the tail end.” He considered asking who was sorry, but he already had an idea and promised he would never be the one to bring up Solas. Was he known for keeping promises? Not particularly, but this was one he was intending to keep. The feeling of safety she had granted him, he wanted to give back—even if his curiosity screamed at him.

“Oh I see, that’s not so bad; Charter was just giving me more reports.” Now they were both dancing around the point; luckily however, Lord Squeakums had come to interrupt the awkwardness and opted to climb up Anders’ leg. ‘ _ Traitor’  _ Sorin thought in amusement. In truth, it was a good sign, it meant that he was a good person and even if no one else in all of Thedas thought that, she thought that and so did her Nug.

“So that’s the Charter you were expecting that first day; I hadn’t imagined a ginger elf.”He hadn’t imagined anything at all really, it was out of mind quickly after their meeting. It reminded him, however. “Oh I’ve brought you something.” Anders said, holding out a small box which she quickly took.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything.” No, she wasn’t ungrateful; rather she was surprised. The inquisitor opened the box slowly revealing a mix of tea leaves that smelled Herbal. Something that hearkened her back to her days with the clan. Berries, perhaps. This was so extremely thoughtful of him. “I—I don’t know what to say, Anders, but thank you.” Of course, she was immediately going to make a cup to share with her friend.

“I brought Herbal because I’m hoping it helps you sleep at night; I worry about you sometimes.” The mage stood up to follow her just in case she needed any help; not that he thought she was incapable, but because he liked the excuse to be near her. “I forgot exactly what was in it, but I smelled it and I just had to bring it to you, it reminded me of our visits.” That was cheesy, and he wanted to take it back lest she think that he had ulterior motives but once words were said, there was nothing one could do to bring them back out of the air.

“Oh so you’ve thought of me.” A tease as she set up an enchanted tea pot that kept any drink in it warm. Apparently a friend in Tevinter had sent it to her—one she spoke to through a communication crystal he had given her. Anders had heard their conversation on the occasion, they seemed so different he couldn’t imagine her being close to a Maegister of all people, but she was constantly making comments to the tune of ‘ _ I should tell Dorian about this.’  _ Well as long as she was happy, who was he to complain. Thought, something deep in the bit of his stomach would churn like a sea of jealously; one he didn’t want to entertain because he barely deserved her friendship.

“Of course I have, thought that would be obvious. Here I thought the  _ Herald of Andraste  _ would be intuitive!” He had only ever used that title when he was intent on teasing her, he would never use it seriously because Anders knew she hated it. As a joke however, it was funny; there was nothing more Anders wanted than to get  _ any  _ sort of reaction out of her. It disquieted Justice, which he was learning to bury deeper down for the sake of his new friendship.

Sorin shot him a look,  _ that  _ look. One that suggested she was one step away from murdering him with her own hand. Not that she would follow through, because quickly, she smiled before turning back to her task. “More intuitive than you I’m sure!” His chest clenched as he watched her, laughing. If only she knew how incorrect that statement was. Anders had watched her so closely, it was almost  _ almost  _ obsession. He had learned to pick up on every small change of body language, tone or thought from her; as if knowing what she was feeling was the most important thing in the world to him – and he assumed she hadn’t a clue.

“Perhaps, you’ll never know.” The mage watched her fumble a little, and reached out to help her fill the pot much to her gratitude. Once he was done giving assistance, he backed up to give her space; being close was all he wanted but being  _ too  _ close and he felt like he would burn up in the radius of the metaphorical sunshine that radiated off of her. A man like him shouldn’t be seen in the light and especially not light so bright that seemed to grace everything it touched with Mercy and Forgiveness.

“Oh I know more than you think I do.” Sorin shot him the most devious look she could; which was a feat because her face usually rested in a pleasantly confused expression one that many found endearing. She wasn’t planning on elaborating however, instead she focused on her task.

They had finally sat down to enjoy the tea he had brought her when she turned to him. “Don’t be angry, but I told Varric you had been visiting, because he caught on. Apparently one of the guards had told the Guard captain and she told Varric, so I was just honest with him.” A small sip. “He didn’t seem overly thrilled, and neither did Guard Captain Aveline., but I pleaded my case that I was happy you were visiting.” Sorin watched him carefully for a reaction; just as he studied her she had studied him. Worried Justice might try to take over again, she was ready to diffuse; but he seemed okay. “He thinks it’s strange, but not so out there after...well. So I suppose if you don’t cause trouble you can stay around. If you step on toe out of line however, Aveline—I hope she doesn’t mind that I call her just by her name, but—she says she will bring the full force of the Guard down on you “so help her Maker”, direct quote.”

Anders thought it over nodding. “While I still think I was right, I understand and if it means I can keep visiting you then I will be on my best behavior—rather on behavior better than my best.” He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to disrupt his meetings for fear of arrest and possibly execution; but he wondered what pull she had over his old friend that he would relent so easily, but he wasn’t going to pry lest she change her mind on siding with him. Though he knew he never had to be so careful with her, the part of him that wasn’t completely entangled with Justice no matter how small took the side of caution. He ruined so much of his relationships, he wasn’t ready to lose this one yet. “I promise.” The dark, ugly voice in his head tried to tell him he was about to let her down, but the way she smiled at him stopped the voice in its track. The guilt was for later, the happy was for now.

“Oh now that I’ve remembered, I have something for you too.” Sorin practically jumped out over her chair walking over to the fireplace. “I made it, it’s a little...lopsided but I hope you like it.” Out of another one of her many wooden boxes, she pulled a small wooden charm that looked to be a cat. “I remember you telling me about Ser Pounce-A-Lot, and how you miss having cats, so I made this for you.” She held it out to him and sat back down. “There's a little string so if you want to tie it to your staff or something.” A shrug.

He was touched, beyond touched; sure it wasn’t perfect in appearance, but it was perfect to him. Proof that someone listened to him and thought about him. It was almost hilarious that they had thought of each other at the same time. “Thank you, Sorin—It’s amazing.” He immediately tied it to his staff, and examined it. “You really caught his likeness.” Well, that was a touch far for a compliment, she obviously had not; but in his mind..in his heart she had.

“I was going to have my friend Dorian enchant it so when you said Ser Pounce-A-Lot it would move, but he didn’t get a chance to visit.” Sorin said, disappointment twinging her voice. She wanted the gift for her friend to be really special—and she hadn’t a clue how special it already was to him. She wasn’t a mage so there was no flair she could add. “Perhaps if you ever get to meet him, he can do it then. Dorian is my closest friend, I hope you do get to meet him and all of my other friends.”

Jealousy reared its head in the form of acid scratching at his throat. Of course the inquisitor already had a closest friend; why he should have assumed it was any other way was beyond him. It was disappointing to think he wouldn’t be number one after all. She had a life beyond their meetings at night, why he let himself think she didn’t, he didn’t know. Still, he smiled at her. “If this Dorian is so important to you, I do hope to meet him. The charm however, is perfect exactly how it is. Not a single thing needs to change.” There was no need to externalize the disgusting feelings deep within him, because if there was one thing he had learned about Sorin, it was that she cared about so many people. Maybe he wouldn’t be number one—and that hurt deeply, but she would still care for him too. It appeased the beast of envy for now, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it returned. “No need for the extra flair, I will cherish it forever.”

Satisfied, Sorin fell into the comfortable silence she had grown accustomed too with Anders. Never did he expect her to say more than she wanted, never did she have to explain her thoughts to him-- it seemed that all she had to do with him was be. It had been ages since she felt so comfortable. Sure, she had moments like this with Solas—though he would eventually fill them with some sort of knowledge she tried to absorb, but they had always been interrupted by duties she had to attend to. Here and now, she had nothing to do and nowhere to be and the company to make it worthwhile.

It was his turn to interrupt the silence after enjoying her company for a while. “Thank you for always entertaining my company.” It wasn’t the first time he thanked her, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. “I enjoy it here; honestly much better than when Hawke lived here. You don’t have a Mabari tracking mud in.” Anders laughed, sure he wasn’t a dog person but he can’t say he didn’t almost miss it. “I do miss Sandal however, he was a strange fellow.” He was letting the nostalgia cloud his mind; for a moment he missed how it was—minus the circle and the templars.

“I’m not really a dog person, I prefer nugs.” That much was obvious. “They’re cute, sure but I don’t think I could match the energy they need. I remember back during the Exalted Council, Cullen had found an abandoned Mabari. I think he kept it.” It was her turn to entertain the threads of nostalgia., back  _ before.  _ “It was a sweet Dog, and I’m glad it found a master who wasn’t me. I don’t think the Lord would have liked to share much.” Sorin laughed at the thought, missing the disgusted look that crossed Anders face at the mention of the former Knight Captain. “I think the most interesting part of the actual Council was Krem dragging a whole Dragon’s skull in for Bull’s birthday.” Her foot tapped lightly as she spoke.

Of course Anders knew their views on Cullen differed and he was sure it was because the Templar hadn’t been overly honest about his hand in what happened. Sorin could be too forgiving, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Justice was screaming at him to lose control—but for her sake, he stamped it down as best he could. “A Dragon Skull? At the Winter Palace? Incredible. Wish I could have been there.” Despite what she had said, her stories were engaging and he waited patiently to hear them every single time; even if it was one she had told ten times over, it was always exciting to him.

“Oh I so wish you had been there as well, you could have had a spa day with the First Enchanter and I. The look on those Orlesian’s faces when they had to serve an Elf. It was hilarious. And the hams! Sera’s hams.” Sorin Exhaled, her eyes far away as if she were there experiencing it again. “I dunno if you would like Sera, but perhaps you might. You never know.” The Inquisitor leaned on the arm rest, head resting in her hand gazing at the fire. “I’ve climbed the Lattice at the Winter Palace more than once. I never thought I’d ever see Halamshiral at all, but to cause problems more than once? Exhilarating.” Her gaze turned towards him, a pleasantly relaxed expression resting on her face.

The way she was looking at him sent his heart racing; how she managed to tell a million stories about all of these fascinating people she knew and then look at him as if he were the only person who existed at all was beyond him, but it would be the death of him. Did she know that’s how she looked at him? Did she look at everyone that way? She must, what other reason was there for it. He wanted to shrink under her gaze, to turn away. He didn’t deserve to feel special in this way. Still, he looked back. “You have never struck me as a trouble maker, I really wish I had been there now.” A short, uncomfortable laugh, before looking out of the window—he wanted an excuse to leave, to stay here would let his thoughts run wild. He felt caged. “It seems to be rather late, perhaps we should pick this up tomorrow?”

Sorin’s face fell, no she didn’t want him to leave—but neither did she want to stifle him and tell him he couldn’t leave. Despite wanting to. Time with him was a refuge for her. “Oh, alright. It is rather late, but I also know Kirkwall isn’t safe… I have a guest room if you would like to stay there for the night? I’m not entirely sure where you have been staying; but my friends are always welcome to stay here.” She made the offer as politely as she could, standing and gesturing to what was previously Hawke’s mothers room. “If you don’t wish to stay, I understand and I will see you tomorrow.” An out for him to take if he wished.

How could he refuse? The look on her face, and the desire to be near her always. Anders nodded; though he didn’t like the idea of staying in Leandra’s old room, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Yes, thank you, I would love to stay in the guest room.” He faked a yawn. “I think I will retire quickly lest I fall asleep here and now.” Gathering up his things, he bowed politely to Sorin, before making his way to the spare room, heart still racing in his chest. A fact which was made worse by the soft voice behind him.

“Sleep well, I will see you in the morning.” It was Sorin’s turn to gaze upon the ending of one of their many meetings wondering if she had done something terribly wrong. Not many times did she have self doubt, but this was one of those moments. The way he shifted from enjoying her company to wanting to go-- she must have done something. There was no other explanation. Maybe she would bring it up over breakfast, but perhaps if he decided to stay then it was water under the bridge.

With all of her confused thoughts and feelings clouding her mind, she scooped up The Lord and retired to her own room to entertain a sleepless night of guilt, regret, remorse and confusion; something she did most nights, but was exemplified by her lack of apparent social graces. A sigh, and she flopped down, not bothering to change out of day clothes. It didn’t matter—she was going to fight sleep until she couldn’t. Still, she wanted to pretend. Closing her eyes she did the best to feign sleep, she wanted to be up before her guest so she could potentially head off any upset she might have caused.

But that was another thought for another day.

  
  



End file.
